Lips Red As Blood

11 |

"How about setting traps all over the apartment?" Asher suggests, tapping the pencil against a blank piece of paper. "Then if Brielle comes, boom — she's trapped, we find a way to dispose of her, and then everyone's safe." 

It's been twenty minutes since they arrived home, sat at the kitchen table, and stared at the blank paper. Completely drained out, Cora listens to the devil rattle out plans, only interrupting when he comes up with an especially stupid one. 

"I like that one better than the rest," muses Cora. When she sees him brighten, Cora shakes her head. "If only the holes in the plan were smaller. First, Harper would wonder why the hell we're planting traps all over the house. Second, what if we accidentally stepped into our traps? Third, isn't Brielle a murderer demon lady? She could use weapons if she brought them." 

Asher looks slightly miffed, though there's a slow reluctance in his face, like he knows everything Cora points out is true. Taking a soft inhale, he redirects his gaze back towards the paper. 

"How about we invite Brielle to a nice dinner? You know, one-on-one with you two." Asher starts chewing on the pencil eraser in concentration. "We'll have it in your apartment, make a fancy dinner — complete with white table cloth, red velvet napkins, dim candlelight, strawberry soufflé, and wine. When Brielle's completely comfortable, I'll sneak out from behind and whack her from behind with something. She falls unconscious, yadda yadda yadda, we tie her up, blah blah blah, and then our grand finale will be forcing her into a deal with us. 'You mustn't try to kill us or sabotage our mission, for if you do that, something terrible and tragic will befall you.' Something like that." 

His dramatic voice rings across the kitchen, like he's practicing for the play. Cora sighs. "So I'm on a date with a lady trying to kill me," she says flatly. "Wonderful. I mean, it's totally fine because who knows if she'll murder me during the date, am I right? Even if that part succeeds, what if she hears you walking behind her?" 

The devil makes a face. "Whatever," he mumbles, childishly sticking his tongue out. "Throw a piano at her." 

Cora arches an eyebrow at that one. "You're not even trying." 

"Because you keep finding things wrong with my plans!" Asher explodes, cheeks splotching pink. "If it's so easy, why don't you try making a plan?" 

Before Cora can properly explain that the summer heat is making her brain go haywire, Harper pokes her head into the kitchen. 

"Hey." Harper's usual animated smile is gone, replaced with a more somber one. "Asher, excuse us for a moment. Cora and I have business to take care of." 

Asher looks curious, but upon seeing Cora's expression — one that says "please don't ask" — he nods. "See you," he calls out, when Cora makes her way towards her sister. "Bring cotton candy if you can." 

Cora cracks a smile, before following Harper into the car. Heavy silence fills the vehicle and Cora gazes out the window. It's going to be a long hour drive until they reach their destination. 

Butterflies fly anxiously at her stomach, dread humming through her blood. There are only two ways this visit can go and neither option is good. 

After the hour-long drive, Harper pulls up in front of a house. Unease whips around frantically, like a storm threatening to destroy everything. 

Everything is the same as it was two months ago. The perfectly trimmed grass on the front lawn, the small garden with sleepy lavender-purple and fiery sunset-pink flowers bunched together, the painted white door, and the small mat on the ground that says "welcome" in calligraphy. 

Somehow, the gentle aura of the whole house seems more menacing than ever. Cora takes a deep breath, inhaling the fresh scent of... burnt cookies. She grimaces. Of course. 

Every visit, their mother prepares a batch of baked goodies, though her cooking skills are less than impressive. 

"Are you going to come?" Cora asks, glancing back at her sister, who's still frozen at the driver's seat. "Or are you going to stay in the car again?" 

The answer is always the same. 

"You go." Harper leans back into the seat. "I'll probably come when I feel ready." 

Cora gives her a subtle nod, before slowly inching towards the door. Swallowing, she gently presses the doorbell. Almost a fraction of a second later, the door swings open. 

"Cora," her mother breathes, a relieved smile falling on her lips. "You were twenty minutes late. I thought you weren't coming." 

Irene Li is also the same as two months ago, like everything else. Her messy brown hair is tied back into a loose ponytail, subtle silver streaks blending in her hair, brown eyes tired. Her faded midnight blue apron — baby teddy bears sitting on stars — is dusted with flour, probably from accidentally knocking the bag of powder off the table. 

"There was traffic," Cora says, inching towards the house. "We were delayed for a few minutes." 

"'We?'" Irene's gaze moves towards the small car parked on the side. Then her eyes harden, the usual fire sparking in her expression. "Oh." 

Cora clears her throat, nodding not-so-subtly into the doorway. "Are your cookies still in the oven? If you keep getting distracted out here, you'll burn the whole house down." 

Irene lets out a loose laugh, though there's still a tightness around her mouth. "I won't burn the house down," she says airily. "I've been making cookies for six years." 

A pang in Cora's chest. Like she's struggling to breathe. 

Even though these visits have been the same for the past six years, occurring every two months, Cora still can't shake off that numbness that happens whenever she comes to this house. 

"Cora?" Her mother tilts her head, jolting Cora out of her reverie. "Aren't you coming in?" 

Sending one sharp look at the car, Cora exhales softly, shaking loose her emotions. "Yeah," she says, her bright smile contrasting the broken glass that shears through her when she steps through the house. "Of course." 

Author Note: 

hi again! question: why do you think cora and harper are acting strange over this new character? oh, and what do you think their mother did to make their relationship - ahem - a little strained?